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THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE    WEST 

A  DREAM   OF  1915 


By  COURTNEY  ROWLAND 


With  a  preface  by  the   REV.   CHAS.   F.   AKED,   D.D,   and  a  frontispiece  after  a 
design  by  the  celebrated  California  artist  MISS  E.  ALMOND  WITHROW 


Dr.  Harvey  H.  Guy  Says:  "I  have  read  every  word  with  great  interest  and 
delight.  This  is  more  than  a  dream,  it  is  a  prophesy,  a  far  look  into  the  future 
which  shall  find  only  partial  fulfillment  in  1915." 

The  Hon.  Jeremiah  Lynch  says:  "It  is  an  admirable  production.  What  I  like 
above  all  is  the  freedom  from,  what  shall  I  say,  superstition,  religious  materialism 
or  dead  creeds?  Your  Egyptian  references  are  quite  correct,  historically  and  in 
good  taste." 

The  Rev.  C.  S.  S.  Dutton  says:  "I  read  it  and  reread  it:  it  is  a  very  noble 
call  to  the  people  of  the  Pacific  Coast;  I  would  like  to  see  it  placed  in  our 
schools.  You  have  given  us  some  very  real,  very  beautiful,  and  very  inspiring 
pages." 

"It  is  among  the  first  and  it  will  prove  to  be  amongst  the  finest  and  noblest 
of  the  works  of  creative  genius  inspired  by  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition  of 
>15.  When  the  Exposition  has  come  and  gone,  when  the  crowds  have  departed 
and  the  gates  are  closed,  when  the  matchless  collection  of  the  world's  best  is 
dispersed  again  and  the  famous  men  and  women  of  the  nations  who  gathered  here 
have  returned  to  their  homes,  it  may  well  be  that  this  pamphlet  of  Courtney 
Rowland  will  remain  at  once  the  truest  account  of  its  meaning  and  the  completest 
embodiment  of  its  message." — Reported  in  San  Francisco  Bulletin,  February  1,  1915. 

"In  'The  Spirit  of  the  West'  Courtney  Rowland  of  this  city  has  written  what 
he  aptly  calls  'A  Dream  of  1915.'  It  is  a  finely  imaginative  study  of  the  westward 
march  of  progress  and  culture,  and  incidentally  the  author  passes  in  rapid  retro 
spect  the  whole  history  of  man.  The  book  is  finely  written  and  is  prefaced  with 
an  eloquent  foreword  by  Dr.  Chas.  F.  Aked."— San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"A  highly  interesting  book  entitled  The  Spirit  of  the  West'  by  Courtney 
Rowland  has  been  published  by  The  Grimmett  Company  of  San  Francisco.  Mr. 
Rowland  interprets  the  Spirit  of  the  West  in  a  wonderful  dream  which  is  beautifully 
interwoven  with  poetry,  philosophy,  history  and  mythology.  His  vision  terminates 
at  the  great  Exposition  by  the  Golden  Gate."— San  Francisco  News  Letter. 


THE 

SPIRIT  OF  THE   WEST 

A  DREAM  OF  1915 


BV 


COURTNEY     ROWLAND 


p  R  E  FACE:    BY 


THE:  REIV.  CHAS.  F.  AKEID,  D.D.  LL.D. 


PUBL  ISH  E  RS 

THE      GRIMJVI*      T     CO 


SAN      FR 


Copyright,    1915 
By    Courtney    Rowland 

All  rights  reserved 


PREFACE 


Brooding  over  our  western  world  is  a  sense  of  destiny. 
Consciously  or  unconsciously,  working  through  the  mind 
of  the  individual  or  in  the  soul  of  the  race,  a  feeling  of 
vastness  helps  to  make  us  what  we  are.  The  future  of  the 
world  is  with  us.  On  the  Pacific  slope  our  young  and 
brawny  western  civilization  makes  its  last  stand  as  it  con 
fronts  the  hoary  east.  Here  our  western  manhood  and 
womanhood  must  needs  reach  their  full  height.  Here  is 
to  be  produced  the  consummate  flower  of  human  evolution. 

This  and  more  than  this,  infinitely  more,  Courtney 
Rowland  has  perceived.  His  dream  is  more  than  a  dream. 
In  the  deep  sense  of  the  word,  this  is  a  great  prophetic 
utterance,  not  prophetic  only  in  the  narrow  meaning  of 
"predictive"  but  prophetic  in  its  passion  for  spiritual  realities 
and  in  its  enthusiasm  for  human  liberty.  This  dreamer 
has  the  imagination  of  a  poet,  the  largeness  and  power  of 
a  statesman,  and  the  fervor  of  a  lover. 

The  writer  brings  to  his  task  the  equipment  of  the 
trained  historian.  Into  a  few  paragraphs  he  distils  the 
wealth  of  hundreds  of  volumes.  He  brings  back  to  us  the 
life  of  Man  upon  this  planet;  sketches  in  bold,  strong  lines 
the  division  of  the  human  family  into  tribes  and  nations ; 
visualizes  for  us  the  migrations  of  successive  centuries. 
He  calls  up  before  us  the  giant  forms  of  empires  on  their 
way  to  ruin,  and  fastens  our  gaze  upon  the  triumphant 
westward  march  of  the  race.  It  has  been  written  in  the 
counsels  of  the  Eternal,  he  says  in  effect,  that  no  eastward 
movement  shall  ever  permanently  succeed.  Westward,  ever 
westward,  the  conquering  peoples  march — until  they  come 
to  a  halt  upon  the  Pacific  coast! 

And  then   what? 

It  is  with  good  reason  that  Courtney  Rowland  sets  his 
dreamer  in  San  Francisco  and  brings  to  the  Panama-Pacific 


305671 


Exposition  of  1915  the  Spirit  of  the  West  to  tell  the  story 
of  the  past,  expound  the  meaning  of  the  present,  and  enforce 
responsibility  for  the  future.  The  City  by  the  Golden  Gate, 
which  waits  for  the  dawning  of  the  morning  upon  the  High 
Sierras  and  sees  the  red  evening  burn  down  to  the  sunset 
wave,  facing  still  the  West  which  is  the  farthest  East,  and 
facing,  too,  the  East  which  once  was  West,  may  yet  stand 
as  the  herald  of  a  higher  civilization,  a  richer  culture,  a 
nobler  manhood  and  womanhood  to  the  world  that  is  to  be. 

Rudyard  Kipling's  lines  are  well  known: 

"West  to  the  Golden  Gate, 

Where  the  blindest  bluffs  hold  good,  dear  lass, 

And  the  wildest  tales  are  true, 

And  the  men  bulk  big  on  the  old  trail, 

And  life  runs  large  on  the  Long  Trail,  the  trail  that  is 
always    new." 

This  testimony  is  true.  The  blindest  bluffs  are  not 
bluffs  at  all;  the  blindest  bluffs  hold  good.  The  wildest 
tales  are  true.  And  men  bulk  big  and  life  runs  large — and 
there  is  no  touch  of  meanness  in  our  blood.  Florence  in 
the  centuries  of  her  renown  gave  to  the  world  merchant 
princes,  bankers,  statesmen,  world-rulers,  poets,  painters, 
children  of  genius  whose  place  is  with  the  immortals.  We 
have  all  that  made  Florence  great,  the  flowers  and  fruits 
of  the  earth,  a  sun  like  that  of  Italy,  air  as  intoxicating  as 
that  of  the  Alps,  the  living  glory  which  streams  upon  us 
day  and  night  from  the  mountains  and  the  seas  and  the 
skies,  and  as  enterprising,  resourceful,  and  daring  a  race  of 
men  and  women  as  may  be  found  today  upon  the  face  of 
the  earth. 

It  is  to  the  people  of  this  efficient  and  aspiring  race  that 
the  Spirit  of  the  West  by  the  medium  of  Courtney  Rowland 
enforces  the  lesson  of  a  solemn  responsibility  and  an 
inspiring  destiny. 

CHAS.    F.    AKED. 
San   Francisco. 


THE 

SPIRIT    OF    THE    WEST 

A    DREAM    OF    1915 


He  was  an  Armenian  by  birth,  a  dealer  in  precious  stones. 
Fortune  had  led  him  from  the  Levant  to  Alexandria  and  later 
through  most  European  capitals.  In  secret  journeys  to  the 
ancestral  castles  of  prospective  buyers  of  special  gems  he 
had  experienced  many  a  rare  adventure  on  roads  not  trodden 
by  the  tourist. 

From  Paris  he  had  taken  a  commission  to  New  York  and 
then  lured  by  the  legends  of  sapphires  in  Montana  he  had 
wandered  westward  with  the  rest  of  the  world,  gradually  be 
coming  permeated  with  the  optimism  of  this  new  land 
until  the  spell  of  the  Pacific  anchored  him  in  the  western 
metropolis. 

In  that  wonderful  1915,  strange  faces,  strange  tongues 
and  strange  costumes  were  met  with  hourly,  but  I  was 
particularly  fascinated  by  this  acquaintance  from  the  land 
of  romance.  We  often  met  in  the  evenings,  and  many  a 
pleasant  hour  I  spent  listening  to  the  stories  of  his  travels. 
But  it  had  been  left  to  San  Francisco  to  provide  him  with 
the  most  wonderful  adventure. 

I  give  the  recital  as  nearly  as  possible  in  his  own 
words : 

THE  ARMENIAN'S  ADVENTURE  IN   SAN   FRANCISCO. 

February,  1915.  Between  Broadway  and  Pacific 
Avenue.  One  of  the  view  points  of  the  world.  The 
rmlitary  park  on  the  left.  At  one's  feet  the  Exposition  build- 


12  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  WEST 

ings  gleaming  in  the  sunlight.  Flags  fluttering  in  the  breeze. 
A  dim  clatter  of  hammers  punctuating  joyous  shouts.  The 
city  of  St.  Francis  on  the  tiptoe  of  expectation.  Fair 
Tamalpais  smiling  across  the  Golden  Gate.  White  sails 
of  newly  arrived  yachts  wafting  the  craft  over  the  dimpled 
waves.  Great  European  steamships  lying  at  anchor,  their 
decks  under  awnings,  soft  strains  of  mingled  music  breath 
ing  through  each  veering  lull  of  the  ocean  zephyrs.  A 
cloudless  sky  above,  and  the  grateful  warmth  of  joyous 
sunshine  tempering  the  magic  atmosphere  to  that  delicious 
medium  in  which  it  suffices  simply  to  be  alive  and  to  breathe. 
A  day  such  as  happens  now  and  again  in  cloudier  climes 
and  is  there  remembered  as  a  landmark  of  a  life.  A  day 
that  in  this  favored  land  is  but  one  of  two  or  three  hundred 
such  days  in  a  year  and  so  usual  that  one  presently  forgets 
that  there  were  ever  any  others. 

As  I  rested,  drinking  in  the  delights  thus  offered,  there 
passed  near  by  a  clattering  calvacade  in  the  costumes  of  a 
long  past  age — Crusaders,  Canterbury  Pilgrims,  and  Knights 
of  Burgundy.  They  were  going  to  rehearsal.  Benson  had 
taken  in  hand  the  pageant  of  San  Francisco  and  was  staging 
the  events  in  which  the  city  had  its  origin — the  march  of 
mankind  to  the  west.  It  was  a  grand  idea  and  promised 
to  be  one  of  the  greatest  attractions  of  the  World's  Fair. 
The  conception  was  in  full  accord  with  the  genius  of  the 
American  Commonwealth. 

Still  thinking  of  this  strange  procession,  I  turned 
slowly  southwards  and  strolled  toward  the  hills.  In  the  fore 
ground  were  the  shimmering  whites  and  yellows  of  the 
clustering  houses  with  here  and  there  a  patch  of  dark  red 
or  brown.  Beyond  were  the  wooded  slopes  of  Buena  Vista 
and  the  gray  green  Twin  Peaks  with  their  forest  covered 
neighbors  and  then  purples  and  the  faint  distant  blues  and 
greys  of  the  Coast  Range  and  the  heights  of  Santa  Cruz. 
Presently  in  Golden  Gate  Park  the  bold  bluff  on  my  left 


A  DREAM  OF  1915  13 

was  sharply  silhouetted  against  the  sky,  the  deep  green  of 
eucalyptus  and  pine  beautifully  contrasting  with  the  cerulean 
blue  above.  Intervening  foliage  near  my  seat  softened  the 
sea  breeze  and  the  air  inclined  to  drowsiness. 

As  the  dramatic  incident  is  the  most  successful  item  for 
the  stage  so  the  dramatic  incidents  of  history  would  natur 
ally  present  themselves  for  the  pageant.  The  priest  kings 
of  Egypt  and  western  Asia,  the  war  chariots  of  Ramses 
and  Sargon.  Darius  the  Mede  entering  Babylon.  Alex 
ander  and  his  Macedonian  phalanx.  The  triumphal  pro 
cessions  of  the  Roman  generals.  The  last  fight  in  the 
Coliseum.  The  invasion  of  England  by  the  Romans,  the 
mission  of  Saint  Augustine,  the  Crusades,  the  coming  of 
the  Norsemen  to  America,  Columbus,  Balboa  and  Cabot. 
The  landing  of  the  Pilgrims.  The  Indians.  Washington 
and  the  Republic. 

All  these  incidents  presented  themselves  trailing  away 
into  indistinct  but  multitudinous  and  relatively  recent  actions, 
isolated  scenes  where  the  supernumeraries  were  very  few, 
tragic  items  of  the  march  across  the  continent  to  the  moun 
tains  and  the  Pacific.  Actions  with  small  staging,  yet 
marking  as  much  progress  as  the  epoch  making  events  of 
the  past.  Incidents  in  such  rapid  succession  that  to  chronicle 
them  as  epoch  making  is  to  invite  a  new  definition  of  an 
epoch.  They  are  without  perspective.  They  are  all  in  the 
foreground. 

Musing  thus  upon  the  possible  lines  of  the  forthcoming 
pageant  and  seeking  for  a  fitting  climax,  I  became  aware  ot 
someone  approaching.  Apparently  it  was  a  woman,  yet 
attired  as  I  had  never  seen  any  woman.  The  costume  was 
of  no  period ;  it  seemed  to  change  as  I  looked  at  it.  One 
moment  I  felt  I  could  identify  an  Assyrian  robe  but  even 
as  I  looked  it  changed  to  a  garb  of  mediaeval  Europe  and 
then  to  the  flowing  robes  of  a  picture  of  the  ideal  such  as 
has  only  been  seen  on  the  canvas  of  an  inspired  artist. 


14  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  WEST 

The  movements  of  the  stranger  were  slow  and  stately 
giving  an  impression  of  superb  beauty  and  grace.  Was 
it  man  or  woman?  So  many  strangers  thronged  the  city 
that  an  unusual  costume  excited  no  surprise;  but  there  was 
something  more  in  the  present  case. 

Whilst  I  was  wondering,  the  figure  halted  in  front  of 
my  seat  and  smiling  sweetly  said,  "You  are  thinking  of  the 
pageant  and  the  meaning  of  the  Fair?" 

I  could  not  deny  that  my  thoughts  were  wandering  in 
that  direction. 

" Would  you  wish  to  know  the  meaning?"  said  the 
stranger. 

"If  there  is  a  meaning,  I  should  indeed  like  to  know 
it.  May  I  enquire  your  name?" 

"They  call  me  the  Spirit  of  the  West.  I  look  and  lead 
westward  ever.  I  have  come  far;  very  far.  I  walk  always 
near  those  who  march  westward, 

Those  that  look  sunward,  and  with  faces  golden 
Speak  to  each  other  softly  of  hope. 

It  is  not  given  to  everyone  to  know  the  full  meaning  of 
these  things.  That  is  only  revealed  day  by  day.  To  all 
who  follow  the  setting  sun  it  is  given  to  learn  a  little,  but 
to  those  who  can  visualize  the  panorama  of  the  ages  much 
more  is  shown." 

"How  can  this  be  done?"  said  I.  "Have  you  a  time 
machine  such  as  was  pictured  by  H.  G.  Wells?" 

The   stranger   smiled   sweetly. 

"That  was  a  fanciful  idea  and  did  well  enough  for  the 
purpose,  but  the  facts  of  the  Universe  are  far  better  and 
more  accurate." 

"How   so?"    I  asked. 

"Listen!  No  sound  or  action  is  ever  lost.  Every 
spoken  word,  every  sound,  every  action  since  the  world 
emerged  from  chaos  can  still  be  overtaken  in  the  distant 
ether. 


A  DREAM  OF  1915  15 

"When  you  expose  a  sensitive  plate  in  a  camera  it 
arrests  rays  from  the  object  or  scene  in  front  and  you 
have  the  picture  recorded  for  all  time.  Had  you  not  inter 
cepted  the  rays  at  that  moment  they  would  none  the  less 
have  been  there  and  projected  around  with  precisely  the 
same  force.  Those  rays  pass  on  through  the  ether  with  the 
rapidity  of  light  and  are  therefore  always  in  the  light  and 
can  at  any  moment  be  intercepted,  provided — yes,  provided 
you  can  move  with  greater  rapidity  than  light  and  overtake 
them.  Each  impression  is  there  for  one  moment  and  each 
moment  there  is  a  fresh  impression.  The  impression  you 
catch  on  your  plate  or  film  is  just  the  impression  of  that 
moment  and  no  other.  The  impressions  speed  on  but  they 
are  not  lost.  They  still  exist.  Nothing  is  lost." 

"But,"  said  I,  "for  all  practical  purposes  they  are  lost, 
as  they  cannot  be  overtaken.  Has  it  not  been  truly  said  that 
we  cannot  recall  the  past  to  live  it  again?" 

"Not  under  present  limitations.  You  live  under  con 
ditions  of  three  dimensions  and  of  gravity  and  centrifugal 
force,  but  think  you  the  Infinite  One  cannot  create  conditions 
of  four  dimensions  or  even  of  five  or  six?  Nothing  is 
impossible.  Thought  travels  faster  than  light.  Every  event 
that  ever  happened  and  every  sound  ever  made  can  be  seen 
or  heard  again.  These  are  God's  witnesses.  He  can  call 
them  when  He  wills." 

"And  you,  Spirit  of  the  West,  as  you  say  you  are,  can 
you  overtake  sounds  that  have  ceased  and  events  long  gone 
before?" 

"To  some  extent  I  can,  and  to  some  extent  I  can  reveal 
them  to  favored  individuals." 

Make   me    a    favored   individual. 

"You  are  very  bold,"  replied  the  spirit.  "Are  you  fit  for 
the  ordeal?" 

"In    America    we    dare    anything,    attempt    anything,"    I 


16  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  WEST 

replied.  "In  the  vocabulary  of  the  American  there  is  no 
such  word  as  impossible." 

My  visitor  smiled  again,  a  sweet  ineffable  smile,  and 
beckoned  to  me  gently.  Then  a  strange  thing  happened. 
My  feet  seemed  to  leave  the  ground  and  I  felt  myself  float 
ing  in  the  air.  Surrounding  objects  seemed  to  recede  as 
when  one  ascends  rapidly  in  the  car  of  a  balloon.  A  faint 
blue  haze  spread  over  the  view  and  semi-consciousness 
ensued. 

Presently  I  found  myself  at  a  great  height.  At  one 
moment  it  seemed  that  I  was  seated  on  a  mountain  and 
then  as  if  I  were  suspended  over  the  earth.  My  attention 
was  arrested  by  stupendous  events  transpiring  below. 
Hordes  of  brown-skinned  men  and  women  were  moving  in 
every  direction.  The  land  was  strange  to  me.  Agricultural 
operations  were  in  progress  with  primitive  implements. 
The  labor  was  very  severe  but  the  muscular  strength  of 
the  individual  was  far  beyond  anything  within  my  experi 
ence.  As  they  worked,  some  ferocious  wild  animals  intruded. 
A  few  of  the  men  rushed  upon  the  beasts,  some  with  clubs 
and  some  only  with  their  hands.  The  latter  engaged  in 
individual  combat  with  beasts,  wrenching  the  jaws  of  lions 
apart,  seizing  horned  beasts  by  their  horns  and  twisting  their 
necks,  taking  panthers  by  the  throat  and  forcing  their  heads 
back  until  their  spines  were  dislocated. 

Long  mounds  of  earth  were  being  formed  into  inclined 
planes  against  buildings  in  course  of  erection  and  huge 
blocks  of  stone  forced  up  on  rollers  and  lifted  into  their 
place  with  simple  levers.  As  I  wondered,  my  hand  was 
gently  touched  and  I  recognized  my  guide,  the  Spirit  of 
the  West,  smiling  at  my  amazement. 

"In  thought  you  are  in  eastern  Africa,  but  in  fact,  untold 
billions  of  miles  from  the  earth.  The  rays  which  we  have 
intercepted"  said  the  spirit  "were  projected  from  eastern 
Africa  in  bygone  ages.  The  events  you  are  looking  upon 


A  DREAM  OF  1915  17 

actually  happened  many  thousands  of  years  ago.  These 
are  the  early  days  of  the  earliest  historical  race.  The  people 
you  see  are  the  near  descendants  of  the  primitive  men  and 
women  who  battled  for  existence  with  dinosaurs  and  other 
prehistoric  monsters.  In  that  long  fight  for  the  supremacy 
of  the  earth,  human  beings  developed  muscular  strength  which 
is  inconceivable  in  these  days.  Had  they  not  done  so  there 
would  have  been  no  human  race.  Gradually  as  they 
observed  the  operation  of  simple  mechanical  laws,  the  advan 
tage  of  the  lever,  the  range  of  the  missile,  they  began  to 
prevail  by  cunning.  And  age  by  age  as  cunning  increased, 
brute  force  fell  into  disuse  until  we  have  the  modern 
weakling  with  the  modern  rifle. 

"The  scenes  before  us  took  place  in  the  dawn  of  agricul 
ture  and  building." 

As  I  watched,  the  same  race  persisted,  but  the  individuals 
appeared  to  change ;  their  implements  improved  arid  results 
accrued  more  rapidly.  There  were  constant  periods  of 
leisure,  of  reflection  and  simple  enjoyment. 

"We  are  journeying  with  lightning  speed  toward  the 
earth.  The  panorama  of  the  ages  is  apparently  passing 
before  us.  Actually  we  are  passing  in  front  of  it.  Your 
earth  leaves  its  trail  of  events  as  a  spider  leaves  her  silken 
thread.  The  thread  is  stationary;  the  spider  moves  away 
from  it.  So  the  earth  moves  on  but  actions  and  words 
remain.  Had  we  gone  further  back  into  infinite  space  you 
would  have  seen  earlier  ages;  hairy  men  and  women  living 
in  trees  and  caves,  in  constant  fear  of  the  huge  beasts ;  and 
further  back,  the  days  before  the  advent  of  man.  The 
record  is  there.  Nothing  is  lost,  matter  alone  changes." 

During  these  remarks  I  had  noticed  that  the  people  were 
moving  in  mass  in  a  northeasterly  direction,  whilst  some, 
like  a  smaller  branch,  but  finer,  moved  northward  and  some 
what  westward.  The  relative  position  of  our  observation 
was  constant.  My  interest  was  redoubled,  and  my  guide 


18  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  WEST 

continued,  "Everywhere  in  northeastern  Africa  and  western 
Asia  when  Semitic  ruins  are  unearthed,  they  are  found  to 
be  superimposed  upon  the  remains  of  an  earlier  civilization. 
In  the  legends  of  the  past,  the  mythology  of  the  great  races, 
this  is  poetically  chronicled.  Mankind  is  referred  to  in  a 
beautiful  story  of  a  male  and  female  living  happily  in  a 
garden  on  a  strictly  fruitarian  diet.  This  pair  had  an 
eldest  son  who  followed  the  habits  of  his  parents  and 
adopted  a  diet  of  grain  and  fruit.  Amongst  the  ancients  it 
was  a  favorite  allegorical  custom  to  use  eponyms,  that  is 
to  speak  of  a  race  or  tribe  as  an  individual,  just  as  to-day 
we  personify  the  British  by  John  Bull  and  the  Americans  by 
Uncle  Sam. 

"Were  printed  and  written  records  to  become  extinct 
and  legend  alone  survive,  one  could  easily  imagine,  some 
thousands  of  years  hence,  the  tradition  passing  down  of  two 
men  instead  of  two  nations  until  the  little  children  of  your 
country  pictured  a  solitary  couple — Sam  and  his  wife 
Columbia — as  the  parents  of  all  Americans.  It  would  make  a 
beautiful  story,  sufficient  for  many  purposes,  but  for  scientific 
study  would  require  elucidation.  The  story  would  not  be 
spoilt  by  elucidation,  and  poetically  regarded  would  yet  be 
quite  true.  Poetry  is  not  spoilt  by  science.  Poetry  and 
science  are  twin  sisters. 

"Thus  it  happens  that  this  earliest  historical  race  is 
spoken  of  as  the  eldest  son.  Later,  a  second  race  appeared, 
feeding  mostly  on  meats,  and  that  race  is  spoken  of  as  the 
second  son." 

As  I  looked  and  listened  and  wondered,  the  fields  became 
green  and  then  golden  and  were  reaped.  Richly  garbed 
officials  moved  to  and  fro  directing  the  crowds  of  workers. 
Ox  carts  of  ancient  design  lumbered  along  filled  with  the 
fruits  of  the  field.  Massive  buildings  appeared  and  a  great 
placid  river  flowing  northward.  Then  processions  of  white 
robed  priests  and  faint  sounds  of  music  and  chanting. 


A  DREAM  OF  1915  19 

Season  followed  season  in  dreamy  succession  as  one  genera 
tion  succeeded  another,  the  face  of  the  land  ever  changing 
as  civilization  advanced. 

"This  is  prehistoric  Egypt,"  said  my  guide.  "You  have 
watched  a  thousand  years  go  by.  We  pass  on.  Here  is 
southern  Arabia  and  we  see  the  main  part  of  the  same 
race  spreading  itself  eastward  and  northward.  Retaining 
their  old  customs  of  agriculture  they  reach  the  Hindoo 
Koosh  mountains  and  there  meet  the  second  and  later  race 
engaged  in  pastoral  pursuits  with  sheep  and  goats  and 
cattle.  The  agriculturalists  plough  the  soil  and  grow  grain, 
but  the  people  of  the  second  race  resent  this  method  of 
life,  wishing  their  flocks  and  herds  to  roam  everywhere. 
They  are  powerful  mountaineers  and  ride  horseback.  They 
are  overbearing  and  turn  their  herds  into  cultivated  ground 
and  so  a  quarrel  begins.  The  priests  of  the  two  races  dis 
agree,  one  claiming  that  the  gods  are  more  pleased  with 
oblations  of  flesh  and  blood  than  of  fruit,  the  other  claim 
ing  the  preference  for  the  harvest  festival  and  thanks 
giving  and  pointing  to  their  brilliant  civilization  as  evidence 
of  the  favor  of  the  gods." 

As  my  guide  explained  these  events  they  unrolled  them 
selves  before  me  in  animated  pictures.  Groups  succeeded 
groups  in  changing  conditions.  These  were  fresh  generations 
developing.  The  vexed  question  grew  in  intensity,  the 
turmoil  increasing.  Here  and  there  blows  were  exchanged 
and  soon  the  encounter  became  general.  The  herdsmen 
were  confident  in  their  greater  stature  and  strength,  but 
they  had  not  sufficiently  regarded  the  alarming  numbers  and 
organization  of  the  older  race.  A  fearful  conflict  ensued 
and  utimately  the  herdsmen  were  driven  over  the  mountains 
to  the  north.  They  were  overwhelmingly  defeated  and  dis 
appeared  from  history  for  several  thousand  years.  So  crush 
ing  was  the  defeat  that  they  might  be  said  to  have  been 
wiped  out,  although  great  numbers  escaped  with  their 


20  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  WEST 

cattle.  The  older  race,  being  peaceably  inclined,  did  not 
follow  up  the  victory  by  pursuit  but  turned  eastward  and 
calmly  continued  its  agricultural  career. 

'This  greatest  of  battles,"  said  my  guide,"  has  come 
down  to  you  in  the  form  of  a  story  of  two  brothers  fighting 
and  the  elder  killing  the  younger.  Perhaps  you  have 
heard  it!" 

I  thought  of  Cain  and  Abel  and  wondered  still  more. 

"The  younger  race — the  second  son — was  referred  to 
occasionally  as  dwelling  in  Cimmerian  darkness.  Later  in 
history  faint  glimpses  appear  of  Scythians  moving  westward, 
and  long  afterwards  the  second  race  descends  once  more 
from  the  gulf  of  Bothnia  and  swarms  over  Europe  as 
Goths,  Visigoths  and  Ostrogoths,  changing  the  course  of 
the  world. 

"The  first  race — the  elder  brother — spread  eastward  to 
the  shores  of  the  Pacific  ocean.  There  we  leave  them.  A 
fairer  race  is  emerging — the  third  brother." 

And  as  I  watched,  the  scenes  pieced  in  with  more  familiar 
knowledge.  There  was  the  great  plain  of  Chaldea  being 
redeemed  by  irrigation;  Babylon  rising  on  the  banks  of  the 
Euphrates.  The  seven  tiered  ziggurats  blazing  in  gold, 
silver  and  colors,  where  the  priests  watched  the  stars.  The 
inflated  skins  floating  down  the  river  bearing  the  mules 
for  the  return  journey  up  stream,  and  the  huge  rafts  laden 
with  products  of  Armenia  to  supply  the  demands  of  the 
great  city.  Then  appeared  Assyria  with  its  military  gran 
deur,  hordes  of  slaves,  triumphal  processions,  splendor  and 
untold  cruelty  everywhere.  In  spite  of  all  hindrances  the 
patient  people  surviving  and  toiling  onward. 

A  tribe  of  shepherds  from  Ur,  journeying  westward, 
across  the  northern  part  of  Assyria,  settles  on  the  eastern 
coast  of  the  Mediterranean  sea;  I  recognize  the  fore 
fathers  of  the  virile  Jewish  nation.  They  journey  to 
Egypt.  I  see  the  Exodus  and  their  return  to  Palestine. 


A  DREAM  OF  1915  21 

They  increase  in  numbers,  and  the  Philistines — or  Phoeni 
cians,  as  we  know  them — are  forced  by  the  pressure  of 
population  over  the  mountains  to  the  narrow  but  fertile 
seaboard  of  the  Levant.  Tyre  and  Sidon  become  world 
cities  facing  the  setting  sun.  The  pressure  on  their  hinter 
land  increasing,  the  citizens  colonize,  and  Carthage  rises  to 
eminence.  From  thence  an  expedition  crosses  to  Marseilles. 
Its  members  navigate  the  Rhone  as  far  as  possible,  then  cross 
France  to  the  upper  waters  of  the  Seine  and  so  float  down 
to  Havre  and  with  a  fair  wind  from  the  south  reach  the 
Cassiterides  and  discover  tin.  It  was  the  bronze  age  and 
tin  was  as  eagerly  sought  as  was  gold  in  later  years. 

For  centuries  the  descendants  of  these  hardy  merchants 
went  to  and  fro  by  the  same  route  bearing  the  rich  spoil  to 
the  empires  of  western  Asia  and  the  Mediterranean.  They 
took  their  wives  to  England  and  also  intermarrying  with 
the  earlier  British  settlers  colonized  the  southwestern  portion 
of  the  island,  instilling  into  the  blood  of  their  children  the 
venturesome  spirit  which  in  after  years  drove  them  across 
the  Atlantic  ocean. 

Thus,  as  we  sped  toward  the  earth  and  the  present  day, 
the  panorama  of  the  ages  unrolled  before  me.  Persia,  Media, 
Parthia,  each  rising  to  empire,  and  further  west  the  early 
blossoming  of  Greece  and  Byzantium.  The  great  Hittite 
kingdom  establishing  itself  over  Asia  Minor. 

Swaying  like  waves  of  the  sea,  first  eastward  and  then 
westward,  the  great  third  race  of  men  and  women  formed 
fresh  combinations.  Hundreds  of  years  passed,  generation 
succeeded  generation,  but  ever  the  gain  was  westward.  Every 
conquest  of  the  east  was  ultimately  futile.  The  east  lay 
down  and  let  the  western  wave  pass  over  it.  Then  rising 
again  it  engulfed  the  invader  and  started  a  fresh  wave 
westward  as  a  rising  tide  appears  to  recede  and  then 
gathering  up  the  receding  waters  makes  a  still  higher  wave 
and  marks  a  further  advance. 


22  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  WEST 

"Do  you  understand?"  said  a  soft  voice  beside  me. 

So  absorbed  had  I  become  in  this  vast  spectacle  that 
I  had  almost  forgotten  my  guide  and  the  strange  circum 
stances  of  the  day. 

"Tell  me  the   meaning."     I   eagerly   replied. 

"This  is  the  meaning.  You  are  all  of  one  nation  and 
of  one  kindred.  Those  earliest  dwellers  on  your  earth 
were  rightly  spoken  of  as  brothers.  Battles  and  wars 
rarely  have  more  to  do  with  real  history  than  the  petty 
squabbles  of  a  normal  household  have  to  do  with  the  real 
life  of  the  family.  Add  together  all  the  years  spent  in  war 
and  in  the  greater  residue  you  have  the  real  life  of  the 
people.  The  years  of  the  building  of  a  great  epoch  are 
not  dramatic  periods,  just  as  the  years  of  the  building  of 
a  fortune  are  but  little  noted.  When  the  results  are  wasted 
by  the  warrior  and  the  spendthrift,  people  are  dazzled. 
They  record  the  incident  of  the  pyrotechnic  display  and 
forget  the  lives  devoted  to  chemical  research  and  the  patient 
work  of  the  miner  and  agriculturalist  which  made  the  dis 
play  possible.  The  man  who  applies  the  match  is  applauded; 
the  others  are  forgotten. 

"On  the  crest  of  a  wave  in  the  rising  tide  you  see  a 
fish  or  a  piece  of  wreckage.  You  forget  the  tide  in  your 
interest  in  the  object  on  the  crest  of  the  wave.  That  object 
is  like  the  prominent  warrior.  He  is  the  creature  of  the 
moment  illuminated  by  the  sunshine  on  the  crest  of  the 
wave ;  but  the  wave  was  fashioned  far  out  at  sea  and  im 
pelled  by  forces  unknown  to  him.  His  appearance  is  dram 
atic ;  the  people  with  their  hopes  and  fears,  struggles  and 
sorrows,  ever  striving,  they  are  the  tide,  and  the  wave  is  the 
battle.  It  is  a  mere  incident  or  perhaps  an  accident.  The 
socalled  nations  which  succeeded  one  another  from  Chaldea 
to  Rome  were  the  same  people  in  different  generations, 
different  combinations  and  different  conditions  of  progress, 


A  DREAM  OF  1915  23 

modified  by  thought  and  environment,  later  developments 
of  great  mobility  crossing  with  the  more  stationary. 

"Thus  new  ideas  were  born  and  new  movements  made. 
The  empires  had  different  names  just  as  the  particular 
group  happened  to  be  paramount  for  the  moment,  but  the 
people  were  no  more  altered  by  that  circumstance  than 
would  the  American  people  be  by  a  change  of  the  seat  of 
government  from  Washington  to  Carson  City. 

"Every  change  caused  modifications,  or  perhaps  was  the 
result  of  modification,  environment  and  generation,  just  as 
a  party  which  wins  no  support  today  will  under  new 
conditions  come  to  power  through  the  new  electorate  of  the 
grandchildren  of  the  present  generation  and  millions  of 
immigrants.  Yet  the  nation  is  the  same;  the  same  human 
wave  rolls  on. 

"The  really  important  history  of  the  world,  the  history 
that  matters,  is  the  history  of  human  relations  to  material 
or  spirit,  economic  and  religious  history,  the  march  of  man 
from  the  cave  dwelling  to  the  cathedral  and  the  capitol, 
from  the  hardened  stick  and  the  flail  to  the  motor  plow  and 
the  modern  harvester,  from  the  earth  basket  to  the  steam 
shovel,  from  the  walking  stick  to  the  airship,  from  picture 
writing  to  wireless  telegraphy.  America  has  made  more  of 
such  history  in  fifty  years  than  Asia  made  in  fifty  centuries. 

"But  this  is  only  progress  in  so  far  as  its  goal  is  to 
provide  leisure  for  reflection,  for  thought  and  for  true 
religion — the  binding  again  of  man  to  God  or  Good.  The 
march  of  humanity  from  the  first  dim  conception  of  spirit 
gathered  from  the  cataclysms  of  nature,  the  deification  of 
the  consuming  fire  of  the  desert  which  burnt  up  the  crop 
in  seasons  when  irrigation  failed,  the  deification  of  the  moun 
tain  storm  which  caused  the  shepherds  to  offer  sacrifices  to 
appease  the  anger  of  an  imaginary  fiend;  from  the  morning 
twilight  conception  of  God  as  a  super-king  demanding 
presents  and  atonements  to  the  glorious  light  of  eventide 


24  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  WEST 

with  its  new  heaven  and  its  new  ideal  of  earth,  when  'the 
former  shall  not  be  remembered  nor  come  into  mind;'  this 
also  will  America  accomplish.  With  giant  strides  she  is 
making  anew  the  human  relation  to  material  and  out  of  it 
shall  come  the  new  spirit. 

"Can    you   see    it   now?" 

"Yes  indeed,"  I  responded.  "I  see  one  tide  from 
northern  India  to  Rome,  wave  after  wave  of  progress,  but 
ever  westward." 

The  hands  of  the  Spirit  of  the  West  moved  as  if  with 
drawing  a  curtain.  Far  away  to  the  north  the  darkness 
lifted  and  masses  of  people  of  hugh  stature  emerged.  They 
had  countless  beasts  of  burden,  and  wagons  and  war  horses. 

"Look!"  said  the  Spirit.  "From  this  period  onward  the 
descendants  of  the  second  brother  rejoin  the  human  tide 
moving  westward." 

As  I  looked,  the  northern  hordes  swept  down  southward 
and  westward,  Goths,  Visigoths  and  Ostrogoths  with  their 
kindred,  and  mingling  with  the  Romans,  Etruscans,  Greeks, 
Berbers  and  Iberians,  filled  the  valleys  of  the  Rhine  the  Elbe 
and  the  Danube  and  the  lands  of  France  and  Spain  and 
swarmed  into  Rome  itself.  This  was  the  race  supposed  to  have 
been  exterminated,  returning  to  the  arena  after  a  hundred 
generations  to  intermingle  with  the  tide  of  empire,  to  alter  the 
stature  and  attributes  of  the  western  stream,  to  give  it  new 
life  and  vigor  for  further  adventure.  It  was  typical  of  the 
marriage  of  the  effete  European  with  the  daughter  of  the 
Montana  miner. 

Yet  another  mighty  movement  from  the  east  followed, 
a  still  further  reinforcement  of  the  western  human  tide, 
though  not  so  beneficial.  It  was  the  advent  of  the  Hiins. 
Little  Asiatic  men  and  women  in  countless  numbers  and 
well  organized,  indifferent  to  pain,  irresistible  as  an  ava 
lanche  they  pressed  on  the  rearguard  and  forcing  through 
like  a  wedge  clove  the  settlements  of  Europe  until  the  base 


A  DREAM  OF  1915  25 

of  the  wedge  was  in  the  Urals  and  its  apex  nearly  to  Paris. 
Compared  to  the  Gothic  impetus  it  was  beneficial  as  is  a 
surgical  operation  in  comparison  with  a  course  of  strenuous 
athletics  and  outdoor  life.  For  more  than  two  centuries 
the  pressure  of  this  force  was  sustained  and  then,  ceasing 
to  be  recruited  from  Asia,  it  fell  back  and  was  absorbed. 
But  its  mark  remained  as  a  permanent  factor  to  be  further 
impressed  later  on  by  a  fresh  incursion  from  the  east. 

The  scene  became  blurred  as  the  Dark  Ages  passed  in 
review.  But  in  Spain  the  Moors  could  be  seen  like  a 
rainbow  of  hope  laying  the  foundation  of  science  for  the 
work  of  the  western  world  to  follow. 

The  rays  of  a  setting  sun  gleamed  on  western  Europe, 
and  from  Iceland  to  Morocco,  from  the  islands  and  from  the 
mainland,  the  westward  moving  host  gazed  over  the  dark 
waters  of  the  Atlantic. 

"And  I  awakened  in  them  desire  and  longing,"  said  the 
Spirit  of  the  West,  "and  they  wondered  what  was  beyond 
the  waters;  and  as  rank  after  rank  filled  up  and  the  popu 
lation  thickened  on  the  Atlantic  seaboard  the  desire  increased. 
Watch  the  hardy  seamen  from  island  to  island  feeling  their 
way  to  Greenland  and  Labrador.  See!  they  return;  the 
time  is  not  yet.  Now  behold  four  centuries  later." 

Suddenly  I  was  alone  again  and  seemed  to  be  high  above 
the  Bay  of  Biscay.  Some  way  in  front  my  companion  was 
poised  in  mid  air  beckoning  with  both  hands  to  the  crowds 
which  gazed  longingly  over  the  ocean.  Their  enthusiasm 
increased  and  there  was  much  reasoning  amongst  the  people. 
From  one  port  and  another  small  but  sturdy  ships  put  out. 
Fair  winds  followed  them  at  first,  but  midway  on  the  mighty 
ocean  storms  arose.  Some  of  the  ships  were  lost.  On  others 
there  were  apparently  disagreements,  but  when  it  seemed 
that  they  would  have  turned  back  discouraged,  the  Spirit 
of  the  West  beckoned  smilingly,  and  so,  some  reaching  one 


26  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  WEST 

point  and  some  another,  the  whole  coast  of  the  New  World 
gradually  became  known. 

The  returning  ships  spread  the  news,  and  more,  ever 
more,  sailed  westward,  until  from  Patagonia  to  Baffin  Bay 
the  peoples  of  Europe  made  a  footing.  But  the  land  wa:* 
not  quite  desolate,  for  here  also  were  the  footprints  of  the 
eldest  brother  and  little  by  little  the  legends  of  the  long 
lost  centuries  were  gathered.  Legends  of  a  vast  island 
and  chains  of  islands  where  now  the  billows  of  the  Atlantic 
roll,  and  of  other  similar  links  between  Peru  and  Malacca 
and  between  Korea  and  Alaska.  Possibly  before  the  birth 
of  the  second  brother  some  descendants  of  the  firstborn — 
a  red  skinned  race — had  passed  across  the  north  of  Africa 
and  by  way  of  the  Azores  and  the  now  sunken  lands  had 
reached  central  America  and  there  planted  the  civilization 
of  Ancient  Egypt.  And  possibly  after  the  great  parting  with 
the  second  brother  in  central  Asia,  other  descendants  of 
the  firstborn  had  passed  eastward  and  southward  far  into 
what  is  now  the  Antarctic  and  by  a  great  circle  route  reached 
Peru. 

Whilst  thus  meditating,  the  spirit  was  once  more  at  my 
side  and  reading  my  thoughts,  said:  "It  was  never  ordained 
for  any  eastward  movement  to  permanently  succeed.  Only 
those  who  follow  me  can  ultimately  fashion  the  future  of 
the  world.  They  alone  prevail.  Fresh  waves  of  men 
and  women  will  sweep  you  forth  westward,  westward  ever, 
around  the  path  of  the  sun.  I  am  the  Spirit  of  the  West. 
Follow  me." 

Then  from  every  shore  of  the  blue  Mediterranean, 
from  the  homes  of  the  descendants  of  the  pirate  swarms  of 
the  North  Sea,  from  central  Europe,  the  Balkans  and  far 
off  Russia,  by  hundreds  and  by  thousands  and  by  hundreds 
of  thousands,  I  saw  men  and  women  crossing  the  ocean  to 
the  New  World,  many  seeking  liberty  of  thought,  liberty 
of  religion,  liberty  of  residence,  liberty  of  action,  but  the 


A  DREAM  OF  1915  27 

greater  number  seeking  improved  conditions  of  life  to  make 
the  other  things  possible. 

I  saw  these  different  kindreds  intermingling,  with  no 
political  barriers  from  one  side  of  the  continent  to  the 
other;  well  fed,  emancipated  from  serfdon,  wild  with  the 
first  taste  of  liberty,  yet  with  some  of  the  old  brutal  instincts 
surviving,  with  mutual  congratulations  and  sympathy 
evolving  a  very  lovable  disposition.  Here  at  last  were  the 
descendants  of  the  same  races  which  had  struggled  in  mortal 
combat  in  that  distant  past,  the  progeny  of  the  three 
brothers;  mostly  of  the  third,  less  of  the  second  and  least 
of  the  firstborn.  Through  long  generations  separated  into 
rival  factions  under  kings,  forcibly  intermingled,  then 
estranged  again;  separated  by  mountains  and  seas,  some 
passing  to  the  north  some  to  the  south  of  the  obstacles  to 
their  westward  wanderings.  Changed  in  feature,  in  dialect, 
in  manners,  by  different  environments,  remingling  in  kaleid 
oscopic  forms  and  now  at  last  gathered  from  all  the  earth 
in  a  new  land  and  thrown  together,  once  more  to  blend  in 
language,  in  custom  and  environment,  a  vast  human  family 
gathered  for  the  Festival  of  the  World. 

I  saw  them  pressing  forward  over  the  Alleghanies, 
across  the  Mississippi  and  the  wide  prairie  beyond,  and  then 
over  the  great  mountains,  right  and  left,  north  and  south, 
widening  their  lines  of  march  till  with  one  vast  front  of 
thousands  of  miles  they  halted  once  more  on  the  shores 
of  the  ocean;  not  this  time  the  Atlantic — the  ocean  of 
mystery,  unsailed  and  uncharted— but  the  Pacific,  the  ocean 
traversed  every  hour  of  the  year  by  hundreds  of  vessels, 
its  every  island  charted,  its  every  mood  known. 

As  the  panorama  of  the  ages  swept  past  I  seemed  to  be 
floating  over  the  Rocky  mountains  and  then  the  Sierras  and 
gently  yet  with  lightning  swiftness  the  earth  seemed  to 
come  nearer,  and  nearer,  until  I  rested  suspended  over  the 


28  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  WEST 

Bay  of  San  Francisco  and  at  my  side  once  more  was  the 
Spirit  of  the  West. 

"You  have  seen,"  said  the  spirit,  "you  have  seen  the 
childhood  of  the  human  race,  you  have  seen  its  growth  and 
westward  march,  my  beckoning  of  the  toilers  across  the 
Atlantic,  the  mighty  rush  across  the  continent,  mankind 
as  children  in  a  vast  new  garden,  exploring  it  and  claiming 
it,  occupying  in  a  hundred  years  a  territory  which  in  earlier 
times  would  not  have  been  covered  in  thirty  centuries.  The 
circle  of  the  earth  is  complete.  Here  in  this  wonderful 
western  land  problems  of  civilization  await  final  solution. 
It  took  five  hundred  years  to  even  partially  blend  the  Danes 
and  Saxons  and  Normans,  and  to  this  day  many  a  pure 
bred  Roman  treads  the  hills  of  Somersetshire  whilst  Syrian 
girls  walk  the  southwestern  shores  of  England  scarcely 
changed  in  feature  since  Joshua  drove  their  ancestors  over 
the  hills  of  Lebanon.  Here  in  this  western  land  are  con 
gregating  Saxons,  Danes,  Celts,  Iberians,  Goths,  Etruscans, 
Huns,  Greeks,  descendants  of  Tartar  hordes,  descendants 
of  all  the  Semitic  races,  Jews,  Arabs  and  Moors.  It  is  not 
a  nation:  it  is  mankind.  Not  mankind  indiscriminately 
selected,  but  such  of  mankind  as  have  felt  the  inspiration  of 
Democracy,  the  chosen  people  of  the  world;  of  every  possible 
differentiation  of  ancestry  and  antecedents  yet  of  one  spirit, 
the  selected  of  mankind  brought  together  from  all  the  corners 
of  the  earth  for  the  final  consummation  of  the  objects  of 
creation.  'San  Francisco  invites  the  World.'  Proud  as  that 
invitation  sounds  it  but  dimly  indicates  the  proffered  destiny 
of  the  Golden  City,  peerless  in  position,  the  Jewel  of  the 
West. 

"Unless  another  glacial  epoch  or  some  vast  cataclysm 
sweeps  civilization  from  the  face  of  the  earth  and  a 
new  dispensation  begins,  there  is  no  fresh  circle  of  the 
globe  to  be  made.  In  this  western  world,  in  this  Pacific 
Empire,  is  the  terminus  of  the  journey.  It  requires  no 


A  DREAM  OF  1915  29 

prophetic  insight  to  realize  the  vast  aggregation  of  human 
beings  who  will  one  day  people  these  glorious  mountains 
and  fertile  valleys.  The  guerdon  is  offered  to  this  far 
western  land,  and  the  eye  wanders  from  Alaska  to  Panama, 
and  from  Panama  to  Peru,  tear-dimmed  with  joy  for  the 
hope  of  the  ages,  the  hope  of  what  is  to  be. 

"The  age  of  superstition  is  dying;  the  age  of  materialism 
will  end;  you  are  entering  the  age  of  the  greatest  reverence 
the  world  has  ever  known.  It  is  for  this  western  world  to 
realize  these  things.  Of  its  people  is  required  reverence 
for  the  source  of  the  lavish  beauty  of  the  land,  reverence 
for  the  marvelous  relations  of  the  hidden  powers  of  nature 
which,  as  each  day  unfolds  its  tale,  make  the  hitherto  im 
possible  become  easy  of  accomplishment.  They  must  attain 
to  a  consciousness,  as  of  old,  'that  it  is  not  their  power 
nor  the  might  of  their  hand  that  hath  gotten  this  wealth/ 
and  realize  the  responsibility  which  accompanies  the  gift. 
Never  before  in  all  history  has  such  an  opportunity  been 
offered  to  any  land,  never  such  a  glorious  destiny  made 
possible.  Only  in  reverence  for  the  true,  the  good,  and  the 
beautiful  can  this  proffered  destiny  be  grasped. 

"Whether  the  people  will  once  again  ask  a  king,  whether 
they  will  revert  to  barbarism  and  civil  war  and  perish  like 
the  former  nations,  or  whether  true  liberty,  equality  and 
brotherhood  will  be  attained;  whether  they  will  at  last  under 
stand  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  the  self-evident  fact 
that  all  men  are  created  equal  (that  is,  have  a  right  to  be 
born  equal),  so  self-evident  as  to  be  overlooked  by  most 
people,  so  overlooked  that  the  evils  of  the  old  world  are 
already  being  repeated  here  with  greater  intensity,  men  every 
day  being  born  more  and  more  unequal — one  a  pauper, 
another  a  hundred  million  dollar  baby.  Whether  these 
things  will  continue,  inviting  class  and  caste  to  a  reincarna 
tion,  or  whether  the  people  will  raise  a  new  standard,  create 
a  new  ideal,  making  living  more  important  than  getting  a 


30  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  WEST 

living,  wealth  and  work  but  a  means  to  an  end,  the  destiny 
of  the  Pacific  Empire  is  to  answer  these  questions  aright. 
Nothing  is  impossible. 

"You  went  forth  with  the  world  a  wilderness  before  you, 
you  leave  it  a  garden  behind  you.  You  went  forth  in 
unconscious  infancy,  in  ignorance  and  need;  you  shall 
attain  to  thoughtful  manhood,  with  wealth,  philosophy  and 
art  for  all.  Hoping  all  things,  believing  all  things,  welcome 
the  message  of  the  Pacific.  Ever  as  of  old,  '  Faith  is  the 
substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the  evidence  of  things  not 
seen.'  You  have  seen  in  part;  in  love  then  believe  all 
things  possible.  All  the  peoples  of  the  world  are  gathering 
here.  Help  them  to  understand.  Addio!" 

My  visitor  had  gone.  There  was  no  one  in  sight.  In 
a  glory  of  radiance  rarely  seen,  but  once  seen  reckoned 
worth  the  waiting  of  many  days,  the  sun  was  slowly  sinking 
toward  the  ocean.  A  pale  yellow  sky  silhouetted  the  moun 
tains  as  they  changed  from  blue  to  purple  and  grey.  Faint 
flecks  of  clouds  above  were  taking  a  roseate  tinge,  and 
then  in  a  blaze  of  living  light  across  the  waters  the  glory 
of  the  Golden  Gate  was  revealed.  Twilight  lingered,  and 
one  by  one  the  stars  peeped  out  as  I  looked  once  more  from 
the  heights  of  the  Presidio.  Myriads  of  points  of  light 
glittered  in  every  direction.  San  Francisco's  welcome  to  the 
world  was  ready.  Had  I  entertained  an  angel  unawares? 


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